Page 33 of Jasper
Jasper opens the door and steps aside so I can go in first. I hesitate for a second and then force myself to put one foot in front of the other.
When I walk through the door, I’m hit more forcefully by the scent of roasted chicken. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the space is much nicer than I imagined it would be. The outside of the building is tidy but utilitarian. The bar was much as I expected a bar to be. But the front room of their suite is spacious, with hardwood floors, and a vaulted ceiling. The furniture is leather but looks comfortable, and there are framed photos nailed up in a variety of eclectic frames. I smother back a smile when I see motorcycle parts laid out on a side table. It’s the space one might imagine for the president of a motorcycle club, only nicer.
An older couple comes to their feet from the sofa and three strapping men who I assume are Jasper’s brothers follow suit.The older woman is his mother, Queenie. I know it’s her before Jasper says anything. She’s an imposing figure, with blonde waves pulled back and a firm glint in her eyes that says she’s had to keep these men in line more than once. She’s wearing tight black jeans and a black T-shirt with their club name printed across it in an elegant script. Her lips curve into a smile the second she sees me. I reach out to shake her hand, “Good evening Mrs. Jackson.”
She grins, “Call me Queenie, honey, everyone else does.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that,” I assure her, relieved that she’s so welcoming.
Giving me the once-over, she adds as she lets go of me, “You’re even prettier than in your photo. Come on, let me look at you.”
I blush furiously because Jasper hasn’t mentioned that he told them about me or showed them my picture. Plus, I don’t think of myself as particularly pretty.
Jasper’s brothers and father are all looking at me. The three brothers appear very different. Two have dark hair, like their dad, and two have their mother’s blonde hair.
Jasper speaks up, “Ma, don’t embarrass her.” Glancing at me, he says, “My pops is forgettin’ his manners. His name is Rock.”
Rock immediately sticks out his hand for me to shake and says, “Nice to meet you, darlin’.” His voice is deep and respectful, like Jasper’s.
I shake his hand, “It’s nice to meet you too. I can’t believe how much you and Jasper look alike.”
His expression turns from blank to slightly pleased. Jasper interjects, “Yeah, we get that a lot.” I can’t help noticing that Queenie has one hand resting on her chest like she just can’t believe I have manners. I shoot her a quick smile.
Next, Jasper introduces the one with dark hair, like his. “This is Slate. He’s the second oldest and he’s our club’s Sergeant-at-Arms.” Somehow, Slate has already sat back down in his corner chair. He’s manspreading, clearly trying his best to chill out. His dark hair hangs loose, barely touching the top of his shoulders. Those same blue eyes scan over me. His gaze isn’t exactly hostile, but it’s suspicious for sure. I feel as though he’s waiting to see if I’m going to break and run before he decides whether or not he likes me.
When he doesn’t get up to greet me, his father clips him on the back of the head with one hand. That gets him moving. He leans over, his ass barely coming out of the chair and extends his hand. “Nice meetin’ ya, ma’am.”
“You too,” I tell him, turning away immediately. I decide that if he’s not going to make an effort with me, then I’m going to give him back the same kind of energy.
Turning to the next brother, Jasper introduces us, “This is Onyx. My youngest brother and our club secretary.”
Onyx is standing in front of the loveseat. No one has to tell him anything because he steps out to offer his hand. He’s blond, smirking, and covered in ink. His gaze is sharp. This one looks like he might be the troublemaker in their family.
As he shakes my hand, Onyx says, “Damn, Jasper. You won the fucking genetics lottery getting this woman to carry your baby.”
Jasper responds, “Ain’t that the damn truth.”
Their silly attempt at humor breaks a little of the tension in the room.
Another brother just sits quietly taking it all in. He’s the other one with blond hair and blue eyes. He hasn’t said a word yet. He just nods in my direction when Jasper introduces us. Somehow, I don’t think his lack of greeting was meant to be disrespectful. And his family doesn’t give him a hard time for not offering me his hand. It feels like it’s accepted in their family for him not to shake my hand for some reason. I almost can’t take my eyes off him because he’s looking at me almost suspiciously. He’s got his poker face on, but I can tell he’s being overly cautious where I’m concerned.
I decide that rather than offering him my hand, I’m going to talk to him. “I’m Tessa, pleased to meet you…?”
“Mica,” he offers, by way of conversation.
Rock and Queenie are glancing from one to the other of us with an almost obsessive fascination. And for the life of me, I can’t understand why.
“Well, now we’ve all welcomed Jasper’s new lady friend, I think we need to eat,” Queenie says. The way she looks at me makes me think she can sense my nervousness and she’s trying to make me feel at home.
She might be warm and friendly, but I catch the way Rock’s eyes flicker to Onyx and back to me. He’s still not sure about me. He murmurs, “Enough talk. Let’s eat.”
We all begin moving towards the large table in the back of the room. It’s set with nice plates, and the kind of tall glasses that usually hold iced tea. As we take our seats, Queenie andJasper’s brothers disappear into the kitchen and return with roasted chicken, carrots, and peas. Onyx sets a gigantic bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. And Mica comes back carrying a large basket of fresh rolls.
“Everything smells really good.”
Jasper pulls out a chair for me. “Ma is the best cook around these parts. Better than any of our local restaurants.”
Queenie rolls her eyes. “There’s nothing special about my cooking. The trick is to get them to come to the table hungry, ‘cause everything tastes great when you’re starving.” Jasper sits right beside me and scoots his chair closer.
